


Shapely Family Values

by keerawa



Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Backstory, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Infidelity, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-10 04:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12904302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: Kyle found support groups of people with soulmates who were insane, addicts, or POW’s.  He learned from them how to block the bond from his end.





	Shapely Family Values

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadlikeknives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlikeknives/gifts).



> It takes a village! Thanks to Inkyrius for the canon beta, Prinzenhasserin for a specialized consult, and foxinthestars for their SPaG beta work. Warnings for references to mental health issues, past institutionalization, and past infidelity.

“That’s the last time Hart will try to fake a post-wedding soulmate discovery to excuse his client’s infidelity,” Kyle concluded as he stepped into the kitchen for the dessert wine he’d opened earlier. “Too bad you missed it, but that new intern, José, volunteered—” he chuckled at the sudden pulse of jealousy. “He’s pretty, but not _that_ pretty, Warren.”

Kyle gently picked up the bottle of Château Climens 2007 and brought it into the dining room. Warren was more of a PBR drinker, but he had a taste for sweet wines and cocktails that Kyle was shamelessly encouraging.

Warren was staring at him from his place at the table. “That wasn’t you reading my body language. You were in the other room. Are you starting to sense my emotions?” Warren asked slowly, sounding out the words as if he was savoring them. “It must be a strong connection, then. We haven’t even finalized our mating bond.”

Kyle had been pleasantly surprised, at first, that a man as self-possessed as Warren trusted him enough to project so openly across their bond. Eventually he’d realized that Warren didn’t even realize he was doing it. At which point he really should have said something, but Kyle treasured that bright, clear connection to Warren’s inner self, and didn’t want to give it up.

Kyle resigned himself to opening up this can of worms. Even if it were possible to lie to a werewolf, he wasn’t about to start lying to his soulmate. “I’ve always been able to sense your emotions,” he admitted.

Warren went still, his attempt at a poker face, even as the quiet hum of his emotions in Kyle’s head hushed to silence. The divorce lawyer in Kyle scented a nasty secret.

“Always, since we met?” Warren asked cautiously.

“No, always as in, as far back as I can remember. I mean, it went a little haywire around puberty, but my therapist said that’s not -”

Warren went dead white, spun, and ran out of the room, werewolf-fast. Kyle heard glass break as the back door smashed into the carriage-house-style lantern they’d installed last week. 

“Well, that could have gone better,” he muttered to an empty room.

The careful, painstaking calligraphy of ‘Warren’ on his arm had always singled Kyle out as a child, but he had kept anyone who had a problem with it, or him, at a distance with weaponized observational skills and a sharp-edged tongue. Excellent early training for a lawyer. 

He’d known his soulmate was out there waiting for him; he’d tasted slow-burning anger, loneliness, determination and raw need at the back of his throat since before he was old enough to know it was his soulmate’s emotions he was feeling, not his own. He had tried to push comfort, love, and reassurance back across the bond; sometimes it helped. 

The connection went ragged and wild when he was thirteen. There were long stretches of time when he felt nothing from his soulmate but a distant ache of sadness, with spikes of intense emotion. A frantic need to belong, happiness edged with pain, arousal so entwined with self-hatred and gut-wrenching shame that his own morning wood left him sick to his stomach. They weren’t his emotions. They weren’t, and Kyle was old enough to recognize that fact. Kyle didn’t tell anyone. How could he? His parents were on the verge of kicking him out just because he had a boy as a soulmate. If they found out how screwed-up his soulmate was … Kyle didn’t know what they’d do. He didn’t even want to think about it.

So Kyle had spent nights surfing early internet forums. He found support groups of people with soulmates who were insane, addicts, or POW’s. He learned from them how to block the bond from his end, kept his grades up, and managed to get at least a few hours of sleep every night. Once school let out for the summer, Kyle cautiously tried opening up the bond, to see if his soulmate was doing better.

There was nothing there. No connection at all. Kyle, who had felt his soulmate waiting for him since before he could talk, was alone.

Kyle had figured his soulmate had decided he’d rather be dead than queer. He couldn’t blame him for that.

Thirteen had been a bad year for Kyle. For the first time in decades, he wondered what that year had been like for his soulmate. Kyle pulled out his cell phone and texted Warren. 

> Do you need me to wait here until you come back, or can I come out to you?

There was no immediate response, not that he’d expected one. Warren needed time and space to cool off when he was upset. That was tough for Kyle, since his first impulse was always to follow, get in someone's face to get the issues out in the open, then argue his way to a resolution. He’d kept it up until Mercy had informed him that, as impressive as Warren’s self-control was, Kyle was risking pushing him into an involuntary shift. She was worried about his safety. Kyle had never been frightened of Warren, before or after finding out that his soulmate was a werewolf, but shifting was _painful_. In his practice, Kyle had encountered too many assholes who would do anything to control their soulmate. He never wanted to be the kind of man who hurt the ones he loved.

With a sigh, Kyle re-corked the wine, put it away in the fridge, and started clearing the dishes. It was his turn, anyway, since Warren had cooked. He went through the kitchen and pantry, trying to plan out Saturday’s dinner, but found he couldn’t concentrate around the unwelcome quiet in his head. Finally Kyle sat down on the couch, gathered up all the love and concern he felt, and pushed it across the silent bond in a way he hadn’t since he was a kid.

A minute later, his phone trilled a notification. 

> Come out back. Please.

It was probably a little chilly outside, this time of night. Kyle ran up to the bedroom to get his cashmere sweater, the one that Warren loved to touch. Kyle had never been shy about using every advantage he had in an important negotiation—and there was nothing more important than his relationship with Warren. Kyle needed Warren to talk about his past, whatever had caused that reaction. He had felt how black Warren’s black moods could get; he had drowned in Warren’s shame and self-loathing. He would not allow his soulmate to slip back into that state. Beyond that, Kyle hoped he could convince Warren to open up and share his feelings across the bond again. He checked his phone. It had only been fifteen minutes since Warren had muted the bond and stormed out, but the suffocating silence felt like it had gone on for hours. Surely they could come to an understanding.

Kyle slipped on his secret-weapon sweater. He went downstairs, stepped out the back door and glanced up at the sky, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. Kyle had grown up in the city. Even with the light pollution from the Tri-Cities, the spread of stars across the night sky out here always took his breath away. He followed the paving stones around the pool to the stand of trees in the back corner of their lot, where Warren had slung a hammock. With the carriage-light broken, Kyle couldn’t see if Warren was in the hammock, but he could sense him there in the darkness under the trees. Without a word, he sat on the teetering edge of the hammock.

Warren’s hands steadied him and pulled Kyle down and back into the curve of his body. Warren nuzzled against the back of Kyle’s neck, scenting him, and sighed. The sweater had worked. The rest of this would be just as easy, Kyle hoped. They lay there in the dark for a few minutes, Kyle luxuriating in Warren’s heat along his back but unable to stop himself from reaching blindly across the bond.

“I thought it was my wolf,” Warren eventually said into the quiet. “Older weres, especially lone wolves, everyone knows they go crazy eventually. So when I started feeling things ... emotions ... I thought they were from my wolf. I didn’t mind it. The feelings I got from it, they were, uh, nice. But then they started getting stronger, and darker. Loneliness. Lust. I knew I couldn’t join a pack. But I figured I could maybe get my wolf some of what it needed. Times had changed, right? So I caught a Greyhound bus to San Francisco, got a job as a barback, and … I met someone. His name was Caleb.”

Kyle’s teeth clenched on the name. 

Warren shuddered. “Oh, I _felt_ that. You’ve gotta understand, I didn’t know you were waiting for me. I started meeting Kyles in the early 1900s, but none of them were the right Kyle, and it’d got to the 1990s by then. Could be you were dead and buried, or not yet born. And with everything I was feeling, I figured my wolf would drive me right over the cliff’s edge if I didn’t get some companionship.”

Kyle, remembering the relentless pace of his libido at thirteen, forced himself to relax. “It’s all right. It’s normal for people to date while they’re waiting for their soulmate.” 

Some people even had open arrangements after meeting their soulmate. If that was what Warren wanted, what he needed to be happy, Kyle could live with it. What he couldn’t live with was Warren’s guilt if he thought he was being unfaithful.

“That ain’t how I was raised. And I’d wager you never so much as kissed anyone besides me.”

Kyle blushed. He didn’t think his inexperience had been that obvious. “No, but I could feel you. And that part’s not normal. Even with the most powerful bonds, that operate before a physical meeting, there’s not meant to be an empathic connection until after puberty. When I researched it, I realized it must be because you were older than me. A lot older.”

“Got that one right,” Warren said, one hand gently rubbing Kyle’s hip.

“I’ve got your name written on me with a _fountain pen_ ,” Kyle complained. “I thought I’d be hooking up with some WWII vet.”

“And you still waited?”

“Of course. I didn’t care how old you were. I knew you were mine.”

Warren gave a pleased rumble and pulled him in even closer. Kyle rocked back into the hardness pressing against his ass. Part of him wanted to let this whole conversation go, see if maybe Warren would lose control during sex and allow the bond to flow free, but they both needed this settled.

“So what happened with Caleb?”

Warren settled back. “He was a good man. And I—I was a mess. I wanted him, but every time we were together, I hated myself for it.”

“I remember,” Kyle said softly, thinking back to those miserable few months before he shut down the bond.

“You shouldn’t a had to feel that,” Warren said, so closed off Kyle could barely tell he had a soulmate now, arms around him and a million miles away. 

“It was hard,” Kyle agreed softly. “But I was just a kid.”

“That’s when your parents put you in that place,” Warren said. His hand tightened abruptly on Kyle’s hip to the point where he wondered if he’d bruise. “You didn’t—”

“No,” Kyle said firmly. “I never tried to hurt myself. It was rough, for a while, until I figured out how to close off your emotions from my end. When I opened it back up a few months later, I couldn’t sense anything from you at all. I thought you were dead.”

Warren whined softly in response to whatever he was getting through their bond. 

“That was the worst part. Feeling what you were going through was bad. But not feeling you—that hurt more than anything,” Kyle told him. This was the point he had to push home.

“As a werewolf, I can survive plenty of things that you can’t, and if I’ve got my way, you’ll never have to feel any of 'em,” Warren said stubbornly.

“Like what,” Kyle said. “The agony of the shift? The feeling of pack members rejecting you? The pain of near-fatal injuries? Because maybe you haven’t been paying attention, but I have felt every one of those things. Our bond has been wide open for over a year now.”

“It—” Warren tried to interrupt.

Kyle didn’t let him. “And that’s how I want it. It’s my privilege, as your soulmate, to share in your feelings. It’s my _right_.” he said fiercely.

Warren thought about Kyle’s words. “I hear you,” he finally answered. “And I … I can feel how much you mean it. But in a dangerous situation, I can’t afford to be distracted by your reactions.”

Kyle considered. “Let’s imagine I was upset, angry, or hurt … would you rather know, or have me close off the bond and keep it secret?” He was surprised by a low, ripping snarl from Warren. “No, I’m not threatening to do that. I’m just trying to get you to understand my point of view.”

“It’s my job to protect you,” Warren insisted.

Kyle nodded. “Yes. And it’s my job to protect you. I’m not going to wade into the middle of a dominance fight, but I might be able to help you avoid them. I mean, werewolves are people, too, and I am an expert when it comes to manipulating the kind of men who play dominance games. I see what you mean, though, about my reactions throwing you off in dangerous situations.”

“I could open up the bond when things are going good, so you can share those feelings,” Warren offered.

“Please,” Kyle said, surprised at how desperately he wanted to feel his soulmate.

Warren took a breath and let it out. Kyle felt a quick flutter of Warren’s anxiety. It was such a relief, he couldn’t have stopped the flood of happiness that rushed across the bond and back.

“Whooo-ee,” Warren said, shaking his head.

“Damn,” Kyle whispered, giddy with the sensation. “Okay, yeah, I can see how a negative version of that feedback loop could be a problem. But, from what I hear, controlling it gets better with practice.”

“Practice?” Warren asked warily, his reluctance clear in the bond.

“Yep,” Kyle said, popping the ‘p’. “We’re going to talk about our feelings. The hard ones. And work on sharing a little at a time across the bond, without getting overwhelmed. Deal?”

Warren paused, then nodded.

“So how did you end things with Caleb? Or did he break up with you?” Kyle tried not to dwell on it, Warren’s ‘one who got away’ out there in the world.

“Caleb sent me off to find my soulmate—told me I’d be no good to anyone ‘til I did. I went to Montana, to the Marrok’s pack, to get some help. I figured, if anyone could help me quiet everything my wolf was throwing at me, he could. And if the wolf did take over, well. He’d make sure no innocents got hurt.”

Kyle put his hand over Warren’s, on his hip, and squeezed it. “The clinic my parents sent me to specialized in youth with soulmate issues. There was this ‘therapy’ that was supposed to guarantee the bond was platonic.”

Warren snorted. “I thought that kind of thing went outta style along with corsets.”

“Pretty much. Luckily, once I told them I thought I was widowed, I was assigned to Maggie. She counseled young widows and widowers; once she’d heard my story, she told me it sounded more like the bond had been temporarily interrupted by my hormonal changes, and would gradually recover.”

“She didn’t guess it was your mate screwing around behind your back, and then doing everything he could to shut down the bond?” Warren muttered. Kyle swallowed against the sick taste of self-loathing coming across the bond. “I shouldn’t a done it, Kyle. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Kyle replied. “I know you are. It’s okay, Warren. Really. Once I realized you were safe, I started playing the ‘grieving but recovering young widower’. Long enough to get out of Meadow Hills, anyway. It’s amazing how easy it is, to make people see what they want to see. It wasn’t a big deal,” Kyle said, because it wasn’t, not anymore; it had been years since his last nightmare featuring flickering fluorescents and med cups.

Warren shuddered. “Aww, hell, Kyle,” he whispered. He ducked his head and started licking the back of Kyle's neck, over and over. Weirdly enough, it helped.

Kyle lay there in the hammock and let himself bask in the comfort Warren was offering, both physically and through the bond, relieved that he would never have to ask for this. Now that Warren was listening to their bond, his soul mate would just know. It was so comfortable here, snuggled up with the man he loved. 

Kyle was jolted out of a doze by a distant siren. “Hey, are you still in touch with Caleb?” Kyle asked with a yawn. He wanted to finish this conversation now, so they wouldn’t need to talk about it again in the morning. 

“We wrote letters back and forth, for a while. He passed a few years back,” Warren said gruffly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kyle responded sleepily, glad he could say and mean it, feeling Warren’s gentle sorrow. “If you want to go visit his grave some time, I wouldn’t mind.”

“That—yes. He would’ve wanted to meet you. The two of you would’ve got along, I think, and he’d be so glad I finally found you. C’mon, let’s get you to bed. You know sleeping in the hammock messes up your back.”

Kyle nodded, then hummed with pleasure as Warren lifted him up and princess-carried him inside to their bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I suspect that, as an Ivy League trained lawyer, Kyle would have been trained in game theory and negotiation strategy. A 'Shapely value' evaluates a solution strategy in a cooperative game by how much it provides the maximum benefit to all participants.


End file.
